


All at Once the Ghosts Come Back

by parka_girl



Category: B.A.P, K-pop, Speed (Kpop)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Fantasy, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-16
Updated: 2015-12-16
Packaged: 2018-05-07 03:58:34
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,581
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5442515
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/parka_girl/pseuds/parka_girl
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A year after his boyfriend's death, Youngjae is in London. He is attacked by the same magician who killed Jongup. Sejoon is the magician who helps and later befriends him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	All at Once the Ghosts Come Back

The attack was over in seconds, but Youngjae hadn't even gotten a good look at the attacker. The spells the attacker used were ones he hadn't seen before and though Youngjae wasn't the most experienced magician around, he'd seen a lot of spells. Which is why these new ones were so confounding, not to mention the fact that he was injured. He hadn't been injured since he was in high school and first learning how to master his magic.

He sat on the floor of the train, too stunned to move. He'd been on vacation, alone. It was too hard staying home, in his empty flat full of reminders of what used to be. Jongup was everywhere, in the photographs on the walls, the pictures on his computer, in his phone. And the scent of his magic, though faded, clung to everything in their flat.

Youngjae had tried everything to get rid of it, but found it wouldn't vanish. Not even the strongest magic was enough to make it disappear. So he did what any self-loathing and depressed person would do, he left. But before he did, he packed up everything of Jongup's and gave it to Jongup's parents and what they didn't want, he donated. The only thing he kept was a necklace. It was magicked, of course, Jongup was good with material items, and as much as Youngjae wanted to forget how much Jongup's death hurt, he couldn't give up the necklace.

Somewhere, buried in his ashes, was the matching necklace. It connected Youngjae to Jongup. It was the only reminder, though he didn't even need it. He still dreamed of Jongup, only to wake up gasping and crying when he realized he was alone, that Jongup wasn't next to him. That he was gone and never coming back.

His death remained, at least according to the police, a mystery. Youngjae knew that someone had targeted Jongup. They'd known that would happen, Jongup's abilities with metal-based magic were rare. But neither of them had expected death. Perhaps it was an accident after all; the magician in question had wanted Jongup to work for him and couldn't have expected that he'd say no. But his death? It was unexpected. It was an accident. And it destroyed, at least temporarily, Youngjae.

And so here he was, in London of all places. Alone. Far from the maddening crowds of family and friends. It was snowy and cold here, but the streets and sidewalks were clear. He didn't need to worry about slipping on ice or running into people. He was safe in his hostel. Or so he thought. He hadn't used his magic in almost a year, the length of time it took him to get himself back together and leave on vacation. And yet, one afternoon on the metro, he was ambushed.

"Sir. Sir? Sir, are you all right?" He heard someone asking him as he picked himself up from the floor of the metro.

His English had improved dramatically. It turned out that his magic had the added benefit of making it easier for him to pick up languages. If he ever got out of his funk and left London, he'd have to put that to the test. He brushed dust, black flakes of something, off of his jacket and looked around for the source of the voice.

There were a couple of men, two of them in what Youngjae assumed were police uniforms, and a third wearing jeans and a parka. Youngjae took a moment to gather himself together before speaking. He assessed the damage to his body. He could feel his bones already starting to knit together, but he was worried about them. The repair process was hard on his body and he was in rough shape emotionally.

"I'm …" He started to say and then stumbled forward.

The two police officers didn't react, for whatever reason, but the man in the parka did. He caught Youngjae before he pitched forward. Youngjae grabbed the man's arms and took a deep breath. For a moment all he could smell was cinnamon. It was dizzying and a scent so unlike Jongup's evergreen that Youngjae almost passed out.

The man, whoever he was, was shaking Youngjae and talking. "We have to get him to a hospital. I'll take him if you're just going to stand there gawking."

Youngjae forced himself to focus on the man's smell, the cinnamon which must come from his residual magic. Eventually he brought the world back into focus. By this time, though, he was in a patrol car and the man who smelled like cinnamon was there with him. Youngjae slumped against the door and decided to just let them take him to the hospital. Hopefully they knew how to deal with magical injuries. Even those that manifested themselves as real ones.

A few hours later, after an hour of waiting at the hospital and then seeing the magical specialist on staff, Youngjae was released. The bones in his leg had to be reset, which he'd expected, but they'd already started to heal. He'd declined pain medication, he had something in room at the hostel that would work better and accepted a taxi ride.

It was only later that he realized he hadn't gotten the name of the man who helped him. He fell asleep, wondering who he was. All he could remember were his black plastic-framed glasses and thick eyebrows. He didn't dream, the magical mixture he'd taken to both speed his healing and suppress the pain had worked wonders. But even after he'd woken up, he could still smell cinnamon.

It took him almost a week to recover fully; healing drained his magic which in turn drained his energy. He didn't leave the hostel, just ordered in and slept. But eventually he got tired of doing nothing and began researching the magic used on him. He remembered a little of what happened, but mostly he remembered the sparks and the sharp pain, like a knife. It reminded him, he realized, of what had killed Jongup.

Two weeks later, he'd recovered and figured out that the man who killed Jongup was after him. In all his hurrying to get away from Jongup's memories, he'd forgotten his own part in his late boyfriend's death. No, he thought, it wasn't his part in Jongup's death, it was his attempt to save Jongup. It hadn't worked, but it had caused the man attacking them to use much more lethal magic. Youngjae realized that he was a witness to a new, previously unknown and probably illegal type of magic.

It took him almost three weeks before he felt safe enough to ride the metro again. It was Christmas. Well, the day before, and the train was packed. He'd sent off gifts to his parents and one or two of his remaining friends in South Korea. They wouldn't get there until after New Year's, but Youngjae was proud he'd sent them at all.

His eyes were closed, which he imagined was the only reason he could feel the energy charging around them. They snapped open and he looked around the car. It was still full, but it was as though everyone was frozen. He tried to stand up, but found he couldn't. He could only move his head, and even then only just a tiny bit. He couldn't see the man, but he could feel him. The scent of his magic, the taste of it, was metallic. Youngjae recognized it now. It reminded him of Jongup, of the attack on himself.

But before he could figure out how to counteract the spell that was keeping him frozen, the scent and taste of cinnamon washed over him. He breathed it in, taking deep breath after deep breath until he could stand. He turned, his whole body moving with him, not fighting him. He saw, as he expected to see when he smelled the cinnamon, the man from his first attack. Their eyes met and for a moment the only thing on the other man's face was shock.

Then the air crackled with static, but it came from only one direction. Though Youngjae would only see it later, on the CCTV footage, both he and the other man turned in unison, in the direction the static was coming from. In a motion that reminded him of doing magic with Jongup, both he and the other man attacked the source of the static. They hit the man, who Youngjae would later learn was indeed the same man who killed Jongup, with the full force of their magic combined.

The man, Youngjae watched, stumbled into the person in front of him, and that broke the spell. There were two young women, near the man, who immediately recognized what was going on and grabbed the man, holding his arms away from each other, keeping him from doing any magic with his hands. Before Youngjae could shout, that the man was going to say something, an old man, probably in his 80s, punched the man in his face. The train car they were in exploded into applause. Youngjae, drained and exhausted, sunk onto the bench he was sitting in.

"He was here for you." He heard a voice say, now familiar to him from the first attack.

Youngjae nodded, though he couldn't speak. The man looked as tired as Youngjae felt. He took a step forward, teetered a bit and then sat down hard next to Youngjae.

"I'm Sejoon." The man – Sejoon – said.

Youngjae managed a small smile. The man was Korean, how had he not realized this before. "Youngjae."

They sat in silence as the train pulled into the next station. No one in their car left and it was soon filled with police. The two men from the previous attack immediately went over to Youngjae and Sejoon. They listened in silence as both Youngjae and Sejoon described what happened. The younger of the two cops said they had the man in custody and knew his identification. Youngjae, out of pure masochism and curiosity, asked to know who he was.

"He was a magician, very powerful, working for some sort of metallurgical company in China." The cop answered.

"Was he Korean?" Youngjae asked, suddenly, all the pieces started fitting together.

The cop nodded, looking surprised.

Youngjae opened his mouth, shut it, and then felt himself start to shake. Shock, he thought. He felt a hand on his arm and looked down. It belonged to Sejoon. His touch, along with the scent of cinnamon, was soothing. Youngjae gathered himself together again.

"He … I'm pretty sure he was the man who killed my boyfriend last year." Youngjae said, very softly.

He felt Sejoon's hand on his arm freeze, then tighten.

"What was the name of your boyfriend?" The cop asked.

Youngjae told him, then proceeded to recite, in his flattest of voices, the events surrounding Jongup's death. After a great deal of time on the phone, the older of the two cops confirmed what Youngjae was already certain was true. The man was, in fact, the same man who killed Jongup. It took all of Youngjae's self-control to keep himself together until they got to the police station.

The rest of the questioning took less than an hour. Youngjae had to sign his statement and identify the man, using CCTV footage of his interrogation, before he was allowed to leave. He was told not to flee the country and promised he wouldn't. And then he was alone, on the front steps of the local police station. He stared at the line of waiting taxis, but didn't make a move. Then he heard his name.

"Youngjae!"

He turned, it was Sejoon.

"Share a taxi?" He asked.

Youngjae, too tired to think of anything else, nodded.

Sejoon gave his address first as they piled into the car. Youngjae rested his head against the window, exhausted. Sejoon, though, looked refreshed. They didn't talk, not until the taxi stopped in front of a building that Youngjae realized was Sejoon's house.

Sejoon leaned over. "Come in?" He asked, softly.

Youngjae thought about saying no, but the pull of Sejoon reminded him of the pull Jongup had on him. A pull he'd thought he'd never feel again. He nodded, without speaking, and slid out of the car. Sejoon paid the driver and then as he drove off, they walked up to the building.

Sejoon unlocked the door and ushered them inside. The house was narrow, but felt both comforting and comfortable. There were slippers in the front hall, which made Youngjae miss South Korea, though he never wanted to go back.

"Do you want some tea? I have a restorative recipe." Sejoon said as they walked into the kitchen.

"Okay." Youngjae said.

Sejoon put the kettle on and then did something with some teabags that Youngjae couldn't follow. Then he turned to look at Youngjae and leaned against the counter.

"Why were you there?" Youngjae asked, finally.

"On the metro?"

Youngjae nodded.

"I was tracking that man." Sejoon replied. "The one who attacked you a couple of weeks ago."

"Why?"

Sejoon smiled a soft sort of half-smile that made Youngjae's stomach twist with the same the pull he'd felt in the car. "I work for … well. Your … Jongup wasn't the first he'd killed.

Youngjae wasn't surprised. Maybe he should've been, but that was before. Now, though … his thoughts trailed off. He looked up at a Sejoon. "Is that why you were on the metro the first time?"

Sejoon nodded. "But I didn't know enough about his magic until he attacked you."

Youngjae nodded, he understood. Before he could come up with a reply, though, the kettle started to whistle. Sejoon poured the water into the mugs, over the tea and then handed one to Youngjae.

They made their way to what Youngjae realized was a living room. They sat down next to each other, on the couch. Sejoon turned on the TV and they drank their tea and watched the news. At some point, Youngjae set his mug down on the coffee table and closed his eyes. When he woke up, he was curled up on the couch, his head in Sejoon's lap.

He struggled to sit up, but felt Sejoon's hand on his shoulder. "It's okay."

Youngjae nodded. He knew it wasn't the tea that put him to sleep. The only magic was the one that was fixing the magic flowing through him, slowly bringing him back to full strength. But there was something else. He tipped his head up, looking at Sejoon, who was looking at him.

"Your … boyfriend."

"Died." Youngjae said, softly. "A year ago."

"Do you miss him?" Sejoon asked. One of his hands hovered dangerously close to one of Youngjae's.

"Every day." Youngjae replied.

Sejoon's fingers brushed Youngjae's. For a moment the whole room seemed to freeze, but then Youngjae shifted his hand a tiny bit, capturing Sejoon's hand with his own.

"I'll never get over it." Youngjae said, fingers rubbing over Sejoon's knuckles. He could feel the magic passing between them. It was the same pull, perhaps not exactly the same but close, that he felt with Jongup. "But I'm ready." He said, softly.

He watched Sejoon watching him. He watched the thoughts sliding through Sejoon's head. He could almost see the pull between them. He felt Sejoon's fingers in his hair, gliding through it.

"Are you?" Sejoon asked, though Youngjae knew they'd already both made their decisions.


End file.
